Kablam Pizza: Delivered
by ellebelle337
Summary: Sam delivers a pizza to Dalton... and finds more than he was looking for.  Rumours ep.   Rated T/M for mild Klaine and some scattered curses...


A/N: So... this is a fill for cracktastic (and others) from Tumblr. It's the pizza delivery scene from 5/4's "Rumours" episode... Enjoy! And leave a (considerate) comment.

* * *

><p>Sam's heart was racing as he drove through the dark toward Dalton Academy. The tan interior of the used Honda smelled like he was operating a full-on Italian restaurant from the trunk.<p>

Maybe he wouldn't even see Blaine. Nobody else here would recognize him. But that was BS—the delivery was under the name Anderson. It was over now… He was about to be outed. No, it was just a job, he should be able to explain it away easily. _Oh yeah, man, I'm just trying to pick up a few extra bucks, _he thought._ For… prom. Tux, dinner, limo, ya know? All that. I mean, my parents offered to pay, but it's something I kinda wanna do myself-_

_Fuck. _

He pulled through the tall wrought-iron gates of the entrance and felt an unexpected jab of jealousy for the guys who were rich enough to attend there. Not that he'd really want to go to an all-guys school… Well, maybe he would. He was feeling kind of confused about that lately.

He tried to remember where he was supposed to take the stack of pizzas on the passenger seat. A campus sign pointed the way: _Main Building. _He wasn't sure where to park, so he just stopped right in front of the marble steps and bailed out, struggling with the mountain of smelly pizzas. There had to be about twenty. But he wasn't going to make two trips, that was for sure. _Let's get this over with._

He stood at the massive oak doors, attempting to balance the pizzas and knock at the same time. _This is insane. No one is here. It's 10:30 at night. _When nobody came, he tried the door and found it wasn't locked.

The lights were off in the ornately decorated rotunda, but there was a dim light coming from the hall to the right. Lights, and… was that Marvin Gaye? What? _This school is weirder than I thought. _Against his better instincts, he followed the light and music—he had to get paid—down the hall to another set of oak double doors. He saw a placard ("Warblers' Rehearsal Room") and pushed open the door a crack.

Peeking around the pizzas, he thought for a second that the room was empty. The music was coming from a stereo on a highly polished antique table. The lounge was very well decorated, with four leather sofas, two facing him and two he could only see the backs of.

That was when he spotted it—a hand extending over the end of one of the couches facing away from him. As he watched, a navy and red striped necktie dropped from it to the tiled floor.

There were people on that couch. _Oh my god, this is so awkward—_flashed through his mind. And they were making out—just the noises were enough for him to figure _that_ out. Sam stood in the doorway, gawking, wondering _what the hell there was to say_… and feeling maybe vaguely turned on.

* * *

><p>God, Kurt had missed Blaine. And now…his lips slid down the side of Blaine's throat, forming a smirk as his boyfriend released a small groan. <em>It's his fault<em>, Kurt thought. _Marvin Gaye? Come on. He had to have known what he was getting into._ He loosened Blaine's tie, pulling it seductively from under the collar of his now-wrinkly oxford and letting it slide between his slightly shaky fingers to the floor.

The two locked eyes. He detected something hazy in Blaine's hazel-green eyes, and smiled, gently pressing his lips to Blaine's and letting his eyelids close. _So much for sexual appeal of a baby penguin…_ He thought.

He shivered as the boy beneath him slowly moved his fingers down his spine. He was acutely aware of the way their bodies were pressed together—at the chest, stomach, hips… Blaine was deepening the kiss now. He felt a tongue sliding past his lips, and—

Wait. _What was that?_ He froze.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" Blaine rushed.

"No. Do you smell that?"

"It's the pizza, isn't it?"

Understanding dawned across Blaine's face. Kurt sat up immediately, nearly kneeing Blaine in the crotch.

He saw the door push open a little and heard a low, southern drawl: "Uh, pizza delivery…"

Kurt flushed to his hairline. Thank God the guy's face was hidden by the pizzas. He scrambled off Blaine, who sat up, re-buttoning and tucking in his shirt. "Uh—sorry, yeah, great, thanks, you can set them on the table."

Blaine tossed Kurt his wallet and continued straightening up. Kurt watched the man—boy—as he set the stack on the table by the boombox, which was still blasting, to Kurt's chagrin.

_Oh shit._ He knew that Justin-Beiber, fake-blonde hair. And that voice. "_Sam?"_

Sam turned slowly to face him. "Uh, hey, Kurt? How's it going?"

Kurt blanched. This just got soooo much more embarrassing. But instead of an explanation, he blurted out, "Since when do you deliver pizzas?"

"J-just trying to pick up some e-extra cash," Sam stammered.

But there was something about the way Sam averted his eyes that made Kurt concerned.

He glanced over his shoulder at Blaine, who was still sitting on the couch. He was looking away red-faced with his legs tightly crossed. Kurt repressed a snicker. And was grateful that he was wearing his typical ultra-tight jeans. Those things tended to help with situations like this…

"That's cool…Are you okay, Sam?"

"…Yeah…Sure, why not?" Again, the same embarrassment and false chipperness.

"You can tell me if something's wrong, or… are you just… extremely embarrassed about walking in on us?"

"No…it's just…"

* * *

><p>Sam didn't know why, but in an instant he started spilling his guts. "My dad lost his job a few months ago, and the bank took our house, and we had to sell basically everything, even a bunch of clothes and my guitar, and we're living in a hotel-me, my mom and dad, and my little brother and sister—and my parents are out job-hunting basically all day and I've gotta watch out for my siblings, and, and-"<p>

"Oh my gosh—is there anything we can do to help?" Blaine asked.

"Wait, clothes?" was Kurt's immediate reaction.

"What? Yeah."

"I can give you some of my old stuff. Trust me, I have way too much surplus in my closet," Kurt said.

"Trust _me_, he really does…" came Blaine's reply from the couch.

Sam glanced involuntarily at Kurt's pants. Kurt seemed to read his mind. "I have jeans that aren't this tight, you know. I could bring some stuff over for you to try."

"I'd bring you some clothes, too, but I don't think they'd fit…I'm a little too hobbitish to wear the same size as you," Blaine chuckled.

"Um, sure, yeah, that would be great, actually. I'm about to run out of outfits, and if word gets out…" Sam said rather reluctantly. From out of nowhere, the phrase _getting into Kurt's pants_ flew through his mind, and he quickly banished it, blushing.

"Awesome. Listen, let us know if there's anything else we can do." Kurt paid for the pizzas, tipping too generously. "Blaine, you should text the guys that these are here—and turn that music off, now, please."

Sam cracked a grin and walked back to the door. "Thank you, guys," was all he said as he left, but the other two boys could sense the sincerity.

Kurt and Blaine sent looks to each other across the room. "Well," said Blaine finally. "I guess I've got you right where I want you now that I've discovered the effects Mr. Gaye has on you…"


End file.
